Mass Deviation
by James Magnus
Summary: When an ordinary piece of Mass Effect memorabilia turns out to be much more, I find myself on Eletania, at the start of ME1. I don't know how I got here, why I was even brought here, or who those two strangers following me are, but I do know I have to join up with Shepard & help her save the galaxy. My name is Oz, & this is my story. Self Insert, Crossover, I won nothing.
1. Prologue

**AN/Obligatory Disclaimer:** Mass Effect and the characters and elements therein are the property of Bioware and EA Games, and Bioshock Infinite is the property of Irrational Games and 2K Games; any other elements or sources of pop culture referenced in this story are the property of their respective creators/owners. I make no claim to them, and am simply a humble fan using them to tell a story. Any OCs that appear in this story, however, are mine. This includes myself (i.e. my self-insert character, through whose eyes this story will be told); at least, I'm pretty sure I own myself. Probably. You can't be too careful these days (lol :-P).

Right, that's it for the standard disclaimer. On with the show!

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><p><span><strong>Prologue.<br>**The Phantoms: Into The Darkness.

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><p>"Guh, why is it always finals week that all this cool stuff comes out?" I massage my temples in annoyance, temptation urging me to leave the massive brick that is my Lit. Theory &amp; Criticism reference on the floor and spend the remaining evening marathoning what I'd missed of <em>FateStay night: Unlimited Blade Works_ instead. I know I'm going to do it again, ditch responsibility in lieu of absorbing seemingly inconsequential Japanese pop culture and, sure, I'll hate myself in the hours that follow, my brain wracking itself to hurry and churn out some bullshit to hand in for at least partial credit, but it seems futile anyways. It just seems like a momentary debate that has to occur beforehand, leaving a tiny shred of doubt to return to, once my mind is sufficiently full of Ufotable's signature epicness, that forming an educated-sounding sentence is impossible. My eyes drift to the brick, then to the Google Chrome icon staring back at me from the bottom of my laptop's screen, then back to the brick again.

"... Screw it," I decide aloud, saving the Word Doc before closing the window and queuing up my usual anime streaming site. It's going to take a bit to sift through the ads, so in the meantime, I retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge. It's not Saturday just yet, and with class in the morning, I can't pour myself a rum and coke in good conscience regardless of how ill-prepared I'll already be in a few hours. No real point in worrying about that now though, and besides, I saved what I had so far and there's only a couple paragraphs left. Maybe some self-indulgent anime watching and a night's rest would work out the kinks in my brain that were keeping me from finishing it properly.

By the time I settle back into my chair, the site's still loading, which is typical, what with the crap Internet services in town. Why a big name company doesn't put down roots here and speed up the bandwidth is beyond me. I mean, it's a college town for Pete's sake! You'd think the university's administration would be all about the latest tech and providing the best service for their students, with how much the campus PR likes to play it up. Heh, yeah right. What am I saying?

The page finally loads, just as the heater kicks in again, the vents reverberating as it sputters to life. I feel my frigid toes curl uncomfortably. Why the Hell does it have to get so damn cold in this apartment? Great, now I have to suffer though cold feet and an ad before I can get to Saber fighting Berserker in an epic smackdown of historical fiction. Idly rubbing my toes together, I turn my attentions back to the monitor, now familiar scenes playing out as they've done for the past month or so as the release of Bioware's latest and most anticipated title grows closer. Images of a fantasy landscape flit across the screen as the camera pans over a particularly brutal battlefield- villages on fire, the clashing of metal on metal as two armies meet head on, a dragon diving into a ravine- and I smirk as a quick nudge of the mouse reveals the title I've come to know all too well, thanks in no small part to catchy soundtracks and great cinematics that make it practically a crime to skip: _Dragon Age: Inquisition._

A sudden pang of nostalgia draws my gaze to one of the few figurines that I own, and the only one I allow to grace my desk. Suspended on a small stand by a sliver of transparent plastic, illuminated by a blue LED, is a flat rectangle that cost me $60 last summer at A-Kon. The replica Prothean Memory Shard, while not the flashiest of merch, it was still a big draw for me, even as something of a casual _Mass Effect_ fan. So, I'd caved and bought it on impulse. Maybe not the smartest financial move, but I had to admit, it looked pretty damn cool on my desk. Very cyberpunk, if you ask me; all glowing and floaty.

_'Wait, floaty?'_

My attention shifts to the model as I drink in the phenomenon of the previously inanimate slab of plastic suspended in mid-air, bobbing slightly as it does. Warily, I inch closer to it, brow furrowing as curiosity usurps bewilderment. Is it just me, or is it glowing in rhythm with the song on the trailer? The arching line of light pulses like a heartbeat in time with the glitching bass and pounding drums of The Phantoms' accompaniment as I reach out for it.

_"Somethin's comin'."_

The light pulses in time with the words now, yet somehow keeps with the music as well.

_"Somethin's on its way."_

Part of me is screaming that something's not right here, that The Phantoms know what they're talking about, that I need to leave the stupid sliver of plastic alone, go back to my anime, and ignore it's blatant disregard for the laws of physics. I try, but my arm doesn't want to listen; my fingers are mere inches from the Shard.

_"Mountains are crumbling, like statues of clay."_

My index finger meets what I expect to be cold plastic, but now feels almost like some kind of metal.

_"__Somethin's on its way...__"_

A searing, white-hot pain shoots up my arm from my fingertips, like lava in my veins. A wordless scream catches in my throat, vocal chords unable to produce that particular pitch of agony. My muscles seize and lock up, as though gripped by the worst Charlie Horse I've felt in my brief existence. A brief memory flashes in my head of Section 9's operators from _GitS: SAC_, overwhelmed by data until their brains fry, smoke and white blood seeping from their pores and joints.

_'Shit! Is that what's going to happen to me?'_

The fire in my arm reaches my spine and abruptly, the whole world goes black...

Then suddenly everything is lit up again as a battery of images flood my mind, flashing in front of my eyes, my body agonizingly tense as I'm forced by some unknown power to watch this racing madness. The skies over Earth darken, only to be lit up by ominous red lights that blink into existence without warning; a woman, her face contorted in a scream of abject terror before she's melted down to organic sludge in some kind of translucent pod; blue, zombie-like creatures fall on a mother and child, tearing them to pieces; a lone figure of alien origin smiles tranquilly as a blanket of golden dust covers a desert world, fire raging about him; a human figure roars in defiance as a massive mechanical squid descends from the heavens, tendrils outstretched; stars explode while millions of voices call out in fear, only to be silenced as the galaxy continues to turn without them. The most vibrant of these linger at the forefront of my mind the longest: a massive spire, pointed skyward on a forgotten world, overgrown with foliage covered in unnatural blue veins, a shining blue light surrounded by spinning rings at the tower's center. A strange sense of déjà vu manages to bleed through the pain, like I've seen it somewhere before.

_'Where? Where have I seen that thing, damn it? And why is this so important?'_

Then, thankfully, the visions end. My extremities are mine once more, but they ache so badly I can't move them, and they fall limp at my sides. A strange, viscous warmth oozes over me, easing my pain with its gel-like touch. Everything hurts, my eyes feel like sandbags, and I feel like I've been put through a wringer. I'm just...

_'So tired.'_

The ooze covers my head and I fade into unconsciousness.

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><p>"I told you it would work."<p>

"And again, I tell you that we already _know_ it works. We ourselves are proof that it works, so why must you continue to state the obvious? It's rather unbecoming of you, brother. The real question here is, will _he_ work?"

"Now who's repeating themselves, sister? Besides, the last one worked, did he not?"

"Now you're just being cheeky, and you and I both know that the last one was a unique case. His was a fixed point across reality, constant in each variation, with only minor differences in each iteration. This one is an unknown variable, plucked from another world, one barely parallel to this world."

"But one parallel enough to work. The roots of this world are present in his, and so is the knowledge in his mind. One world's fiction -"

"- Another world's reality."

"And vice-versa. A concept he is quite familiar with, after all. That will doubtless aid him in his future endeavors, help him grasp his place in this world and his role later on when it becomes clearer to him. "For want of a nail," as the saying goes."

"But will this nail be hammered down, or not? Will it fulfill its purpose, or bend after a single strike and be cast aside, unable to hold the house together."

"Well, that all depends on him, now doesn't it?"

"Do you really think he can make a difference? That simply having half the girl's vision rattling about in his grey matter will be enough for them to trust him? There are times where even you have to admit the shortcomings of that boundless optimism of yours."

"How long have we been together, sister? You really need to learn to trust me on these things. Even with the effects of the transference, he will find a way. After all, I did."

"Again, a unique case. Your mind was strong enough, more developed, easier to coax back to sanity. His mind is just so -"

"- Average, but to an extent. Average, yet still young enough, sharp enough, to be malleable, to adapt. And it is that adaptation that will be the key to his success."

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><p>What finally wakes me is the sounds of people talking. I still feel it, the ooze, clinging to every part of me like some kind of liquid cocoon. How I'm breathing is beyond me, as it completely covers my mouth and my nose, but I don't feel like I'm drowning.<p>

_'Maybe... Something like LCL?'_

It doesn't matter. It's nice and warm in here, like lying in bed under the right amount of covers and having made a nest in them. I don't want to get up and do... Well, anything, really. All that matters is...

The muffled voices keep me from finishing my thought and I scrunch my face up in annoyance. Don't these people have any respect for someone else' privacy? I'm trying to sleep here!

_'Wait... I __**am**__ trying to sleep, aren't I?'_

That moment of doubt brings back the memories of those horrible images, and suddenly I'm wide awake. What the hell just happened to me?! Where am I? What is this stuff? I try to scream for help, get the mystery people's attentions, but all that comes out is a gurgling sound, and I feel some of the ooze slide down my throat. I start panicking, thrashing around in my gooey prison. The people outside sound like they've heard me, and their voices get closer. I still can't make out the words, but there's urgency in one of their voices. Suddenly, a strong hand grabs hold of either wrist and pulls with so much strength that it feels like they'll rip my arms off.

My hands are the first to taste the cool air of the outside, the rest of me following close behind and leaving me dripping wet and shivering as remnants of the goo sticks to my skin and my sopping wet clothes. Coughing furiously, a disgusting hoarking sound preludes the splatter of bile as I heave a glob of the foreign liquid from my esophagus. Sputtering, a reassuring arm helps me to my feet as one of my rescuers slips some kind of mask over my mouth, the hiss of a respirator accompanying my labored breaths.

_'Heh heh, I sound like an asthmatic Darth Vader,'_ I think deliriously, conscious thought coming back at a snail's pace. Something nips into my bare forearm, but I barely notice it as I hobble forward with my rescuer as they lead me towards some massive, unfocused blob that I assume is a vehicle of some kind. It finally dawns on me that I don't have my glasses on, but my brain's still so foggy I barely even care.

"Easy now, I've got you," my savior reassures me gently, her voice an anchor that keeps me awake as she leads me through the grassy clearing to our destination. "Just keep breathing, and you'll be fine. That shot should help counteract whatever you may have inhaled in the air before we got the mask on you. Eletania isn't exactly a human friendly environment. No worries though, we'll have our medic take a look at you once we're off this rock."

I nod at that, a confirming groan escaping my lips that sounds weird through the respirator's filter. There's an electronic crackle and footsteps behind us, the rest of the group catching up as the blur gets closer.

"Spirits, just what the Hell was he doing in there?" A male voice this time, one that- like the woman's, come to think of it- sounds strangely familiar somehow; there's a distinct flanging to it that causes little flags to go up in my head. I feel like I've heard it before, but my sleep-addled brain can't place it. Too many questions, not conscious enough yet to actively look for answers. "You don't think he's been in there since before the outpost was abandoned, do you?"

"You're crazy, Vakarian," another voice chimed in, female as well. "He'd have to be well over a hundred, and... Well, look at him! No one looks that good at a hundred, even with all the tech we've got nowadays. So unless the Protheans kept him in stasis in that bubble-thing this whole time-"

"He could be right, Ash," the woman carrying me muses through her helmet, a strange orange glow encompassing her right forearm as she waves it in front of us. A series of clicks and hisses follow the gesture, and a black door-shaped hole opens on the blurred vehicle. "Given that this is a Prothean site and all..." She pauses for a moment, I assume trying to piece together her own mystery that's obviously tied to my own. "He may be able to tell us something after Chakwas has a look at him, but right now, we're leaving this godforsaken place. We'll get answers later, Garrus."

With just those two names, realization breaks though. Garrus, Chakwas, and the woman with the familiar-sounding voice currently dragging me along like a sack of potatoes... As I'm gently settled into a seat and strapped in, I find myself forced to confront the absurdity of my current situation. Bizarre as it may be, there's no denying it. Everything feels too real to be a dream: the twinging pain in my extremities, the traces of wet goop that clung to my clothes, the metal harness being pulled taught over my chest, all of it. Somehow, I'd gone from sitting at my desk watching anime in 2014, to being flung 169 years into the future and getting rescued by Commander Shepard, Garrus Vakarian, and Ashley Williams of the Normandy! As impossible as it may sound- and even I think its nuts at this point- I'm really in the _Mass Effect_ Universe.

As the Mako's engine fires up, the full gravity of the situation sinks in and I dip out of consciousness once more. _'Way to make a good first impression, Oz.'_

Welcome to my new life, now time to see if I survive the experience.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>So... Yeah, I finally decided to break down and write a Self-Insert fic. After reading such greats as Herr Wozzeck's Mass Vexations trilogy and iNf3ctioNZ' Masses to Masses series, I was inspired to say that least. It was tough churning this chapter out, what with real-life getting in the way and my casual knowledge of the ME Universe. That, and this is my first story to be written in present tense first person point-of-view, so it was difficult to say the least. I wouldn't have gotten as far as I did without the help of my Beta Readers. Shout out to squigglysquid and Rider Paladin; thanks for all of your help guys, much appreciated. I know it's not much, True Believers, but it's a start, and that's the important part. I'll try to have more for you in the weeks to come, time and tide providing. Please remember that real life takes precedent before fun stuff like this, regardless of the fact that I'd rather stay on this as much as possible. Reviews/comments of "UPDATE PLZ," "When's the next update," "update soon," and any variation thereof is not helpful and will not make me go faster. Aside from that request, this is the end of things for now, though I should have a new chapter in the works in the next couple of weeks. Please feel free to R&R as you see fit; constructive criticism is always welcome, trolls get crushed by their own bridges, and flames get put to a more practical use as fuel for incendiary rounds. Until next time, True Believers. EXCELSIOR!


	2. Chapter 1- Waking Up

**AN/Obligatory Disclaimer:** Mass Effect and the characters and elements therein are the property of Bioware and EA Games; any other elements or sources of pop culture referenced in this story are the property of their respective creators/owners. I make no claim to them, and am simply a humble fan using them to tell a story. Any OCs that appear in this story, however, are mine. This includes myself (i.e. my self-insert character, through whose eyes this story will be told); at least, I'm pretty sure I own myself. Probably. You can't be too careful these days (lol :-P).

Right, that's it for the standard disclaimer. On with the show!

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 1: Waking<span> Up.  
><strong>

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><p><em>Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep-<em>

The steady rhythm of an ECG is what rouses me, begrudgingly, from my slumber, its incessant- yet familiar- bleating growing louder and louder in my head with each passing second. _'God and gods of metal, will someone shut that damn thing up?!'_ Wearily, I try and open my eyes, greeted by a dim light that makes it easier to accept consciousness for some reason, and the sensation of several small objects stuck to my body in various places that tug at me as I try to move.

_'Owowowowowow! Fucking Ow!'_

Apparently, an object is stuck in a very sensitive place on my forearm, no doubt exacerbated by my stupid tendency to move around when I sleep. _'Guess I must've done something to mess with the tubing while I was out, but it's weird that it didn't wake me up.'_ I clench my teeth in discomfort, a long hiss drawing between them as everything becomes instantly comprehensible with the clarity brought on by acute pain. A quick survey tells me I'm reclining on a bed in some kind of medical ward, a very futuristic one at that, if all the metal, chrome, LED lighting, and various advanced-looking devices I can't recognize at any indicating. Glancing to my left, the ECG sits cozily in a kind of wall-mount of sorts, wires feeding from it to snake under my shirt and latch onto my skin with cold efficiency, nodules attached to my arms and fingers. Looking to the right confirms my suspicions, with an IV drip imbedded in my arm, feeding something into me intravenously. Still a bit groggy, I force myself to sit up, sucking in air sharply as the motion affects the slightly tangled IV, sending a new twinge of pain lancing up my arm.

_'Whe-Where the Hell am I?'_ I start to think before the memories come rushing back with fully realized consciousness and aided by the familiarity of my surroundings. _'That's right, some... Dimension-hopping weirdness happened while I was waiting for _Fate/Stay night: UBW_ to load back home, and somehow, I ended up on Eletania, getting rescued by Commander Shepard and her squad. Which means that this is the med-bay on the SSV Normandy SR-1.'_ I can feel my eyes go wide as I realize the gravity of what's just happened to me. Just... "Holy shit."

A sudden pressurized hiss to my right grabs my attention. Turning, I promptly feel my inner fanboy flipping out in excitement at the sight of one of the biggest badasses to ever grace the universe with her presence, Commander Shepard herself. My internal HSQ (Holy Shit Quotient) Counter understandably ticks up again by one point at this because... Just... I can't even begin to articulate how I feel at this moment. _'Keep it together, Oz. Keep it together.' _Appearance-wise, she looks a lot like a default Femshep: Caucasian, piercing green eyes, and fiery red hair that's cropped short, assumedly to meet with Alliance regulations. Flanking her is the stern-faced Ashley Williams, and Dr. Karin Chakwas, who smiles warmly at me for some reason.

_'I guess she's relieved to see I'm doing better than when Shep' and the others first brought me onboard. Kinda reminds me of Mom for some reason in that aspect; which, I suppose is how she would see herself, given what she told Shep' in ME2.'_

"Well, look who's up," Shepard says with an approving smile, Jennifer Hale's voice resounding like music in my ears as she crosses to my bed and sits next to me. I barely manage to keep my composure as she puts a reassuring hand on mine; and who could blame me? I've just had a literal brush with greatness. "How're you feeling, kid?"

It takes me a few seconds to find the words, star-struck as I am at the moment. "Not too bad, I guess. Some aches here and there, but otherwise okay." Fidgeting nervously at Shepard's touch, I wince once more as I inadvertently move the IV again. "Oh yeah, and this thing," I point at the offending object, "keeps jabbing me in the arm."

Shepard smirks in amusement at my predicament, while Chakwas simply shakes her head, giving me a few tsks as she joins the Commander by my side and gets to untangling the IV. "I should've known this might happen," she says with good-humored sarcasm as I grimace in discomfort. "You seemed like the type to toss about in your sleep from the minute Shepard and the others brought you in from the surface. The readings I got on your rapid-eye-movement while you were out only confirmed it." A couple seconds later, and the IV is now properly aligned in my vein, though the immediate area is still a bit tender. "There we go, good as new. Now then," she produces a small flashlight from one of her uniform's pockets, "let's have a look at you."

The light clicks on and spots pepper my vision almost immediately. _'Gah,'_ I think as I try to keep my eyes open and hold back the tears, so Chakwas can work,_ 'I hate fried eyeballs. Nothing's worse than..._ _Hold the phone.' _It suddenly dawns on me that something is very off with this situation. Not only is everything in the room coming in crystal clear, but there's a distinct lack of weight and tugging on my face that usually makes such a thing possible. I don't have my glasses on and yet...

"I-I can see," I manage to stammer out in disbelief. "I can see."

"Yes, by the looks of things, the treatment took rather well," Chakwas says in a professional manner before moving the light to my other eye, though I can detect a hint of satisfaction in her tone. "However, given your age, it will take at least a few more sessions of gene therapy before the stigmatism completely disappears."

Now that gets my attention. "Wait, gene therapy?" I ask somewhat incredulously, though I don't think anyone could fault me for feeling more than a little violated at this moment. "You put me though some kind of gene therapy while I was unconscious?" I dwell on this for moment before a new question nags at my mind. "Wait a minute, just how long was I out for?"

"At least two days, give or take a couple of hours," Shepard answers sympathetically. "You passed out after we got you onto the Mako, so we thought it best to get you to the med-bay as quickly as possible. And believe me, I understand about the gene therapy; no one likes the idea of being poked and prodded at against their will."

I feel my shoulders slump slightly at that; the knowledge of Shepard having to go through the same thing with Project Lazarus in the coming years making me feels a little guilty. I know I can't tell her about it, for fear it messes with the timestream and alters future events for worse rather than better, but... _'Damn it.'_

A reassuring hand pulls me out of my thoughts as Shepard gives me this empathetic look and continues, "But, given that we had no idea what that...," she pauses for a second, mulling over the right words in her head, "goo, for lack of a better word, might've done to you- not to mention if you still had some of the planet's microscopic symbiotes in your lungs from before we got the rebreather on you- the procedure seemed like the best option at the time." Her tone gets a bit more serious as she adds, "And that went doubly after Chakwas' initial scans found a lack of tampering with your genetics, even the most basic mods that children are supposed to receive _in utero_ to prevent things like allergies or serious genetic defects."

_'... Oh shit.'_ That's right, gene therapy was legalized in the ME Universe around 2161 by the Alliance Parliament; and with the current year being 2183, if memory serves, then I should have had some genetic modification- or at the very least some cybernetic implants- if I were from this universe initially. The fact that I don't have any of that definitely has to be raising some serious red flags for Shepard and the others.

"Which," Chakwas interjects helpfully, continuing the initial conversation, "after a few more sessions, shouldn't be a problem either."

_'Sweet,'_ I think in optimistic sarcasm, _'No more allergies for me. Take that world! Let's see Spring bring me down now.'_

"Regardless, it still begs the question of who you are and what you were doing on Eletania in the first place," Ashley chimes in cautiously, I assume not wanting to say or do anything that might upset me or provoke some negative reaction. She's right to do so, after all, not knowing just what my mental state is after being stuck in that..."Ooze ball," for as long as I was, which I don't even know the answer to myself. And considering I was just pulled into what I had once known was a fictional universe by unknown forces against my will... Yeah.

"If you're up for it, we'd like to ask you some questions, see just how much you remember." Shepard looks me in the eye as she says this, I assume to give me some reassurance on top of a sense of connection, in order to gain my trust and help me be more open to talking things out. "Would that be alright?"

I give her a hesitant nod, which Shepard smiles at before glancing at Chakwas, who summons her Omni-Tool and- I assume- readies a recording feature to document our conversation. "We'll take it slow," Shepard says as she returns her attentions to me, "start with something simple and work our way up to the hard stuff. Now, can you tell me your name?"

"... Oscar," I answer sheepishly after a moment's pause in embarrassment, massaging the back of my neck anxiously. "Oscar Hyland. But, everyone just calls me "Oz," for short. It's easier to remember, and doesn't sound as corny."

Shepard chuckles softly at that, and I hear an amused snort from Ashley, who's leaning against the wall a couple paces back. Chakwas does that "motherly smile" thing again, probably because she's heard something similar from other soldiers and patients of hers in the past. My money's on Joker, even if "Jeff" isn't as embarrassing a name as mine. "It's nice to meet you, Oz," the Commander replies sincerely as she introduces herself and the others. "I'm Commander Shepard. This is Dr. Chakwas, our chief medical officer, and Ashley Williams, Gunnery Chief of the 212, Alliance Navy." Chakwas gives a nod and a smile, while Ash just waves slightly in my direction. "Welcome to the _SSV Normandy_."

"Thank you, ma'am," I reply sincerely- my inner fanboy once more bouncing around excitedly from the sheer fact that I'm actually here, in the ME Universe, on the SR-1.

"No need to be so formal, Oz," Shepard asserts insistently. "I usually prefer my crew call me "Shepard" most of the time." Huh, so she's a more relaxed kind of Shepard when she's not kicking ass and taking names. That's pretty cool, means I don't have to worry so much about inadvertently pissing her off or anything.

"Sorry, ma'a-Shepard," I say, managing to catch myself, "force of habit."

"It's okay, Oz, no need to apologize," Shepard reassures me, casting a glance over her shoulder at Ashley. "You're not the only one who's struggling with that." I feel myself smirk as a flustered Ashley blushes at that, fidgeting under the Commander's amused gaze. Having had her fun, Shep' continues. "Can you tell me what year it is?"

Of course I can, but then again, I can't. At least, I can't tell them without raising suspicion. I know it's currently 2183, since we're on the SR-1, but as far as they're concerned, I could've been in the orb for months, years even, and probably have some kind of amnesia. _'That might be a good direction to go right now, at least until they give me something to work with.'_ I shake my head dejectedly. "No, I can't. I... I don't remember."

Chakwas nods understandingly, entering something in her omni-tool; she probably marked my statement for future reference, or a later diagnosis.

"It's okay, Oz," Shepard tells me comfortingly. "It'll all come back to you in due time, best not to force it. The current year is 2183 CE, does that help any?" I shake my head, not wanting her to press the issue any further. She seems to understand, giving a nod before moving on. "Can you remember anything about Eletania, how you might've ended up there, or how you got stuck in that weird orb thing?"

_'Crap,'_ I curse mentally, my outward expression turning to one of introspection, as if trying to remember something but drawing a blank. I should've known she'd ask this question, it was only a matter of time, but I didn't think she'd ask it so quickly. She said that they were going to take it slow, damn it! _'Okay, Oz, just calm down. You couldn't remember what year it was, so they should obviously catch on and think you can't remember anything about this either.'_ I try and remember something about the rescue on Eletania, something I might have overheard that could help me here_. 'Garrus said something about an outpost when they pulled me out of the ooze planetside, maybe...'_

Thankfully, my theory pays off and Ashley steps forward to break the silence. "Before we pulled you out of that thing down there, we found what looked like the remains of a some fairly modern structures near the ruins; probably ripped apart by a meteor shower, if the impact craters are anything to go off of. Carbon-dating puts the debris at about 18 years old, so we think it may have belonged to a company trying to set up a colony there that discovered the ruins by accident, but ran into complications and scrapped the project." Ash looks me dead in the eye, her expression hoping for a reaction as she asks, "Does the name "Delta Pavonis" ring any bells?"

_'Bingo.'_ Just what I was hoping for, a base to start my story from. If memory serves, the Delta Pavonis Foundation was a megacorp from Earth that specialized in colonizing worlds. And given the age of the wreckage, and my lack of implants/gene mods... _'Yeah, that might work.'_ I hate having to lie like this, it's not in my nature, but if I want to keep them from digging too deep, this is probably the only way_. 'Besides, I'm not really lying. I'm just sorta stretching the truth a bit.'_ I look back at the gathered faces of Shepard, Ash, and Chakwas. _'Okay, time to see if any of Mom and Dad's thespian charm rubbed off on me.'_

"Ye-yeah, yeah, it does," I start warily, doing my best to make it look like the "memory" is slowly coming back to me. "Dad was a transport pilot, worked for the DPF as an independent contractor, but he always talked about signing on full time with them. He'd brought us along on expedition to Eletania, hoping to get our foot in the door and secure a spot for us on the colony. He thought that we'd have a better life there, and that the higher-ups would be impressed by his initiative and willingness to help found the colony, that they'd offer him an official contract or something." I put a hand to my head before continuing. "I remember exploring near the outpost; I'd never been offworld before, and everything on Eletania was just so... Incredible, I had to see it for myself." I darken my tone a bit, for dramatic flair, but not so much that I sound hammy, or that I'm overplaying my part. "But, then I found those weird ruins. I'd never seen anything like them before; I tried to radio the outpost, let them know what I found, but there was some kind of interference. And that's when I found the orb. The last thing I remember is touching it, and then..." I look up at them, "well, you know the rest."

A series of nods follows from the three women, silently considering my words as I sit there under their scrutinizing gaze. Well, not so much "scrutinizing" as "sympathetic," really. There's a glimmer of what looks like pity in their eyes, so maybe they bought it?

"Yeah, I guess so," Shepard replies. Behind her, Ashley relaxes a bit, apparently satisfied with my story, while Chakwas makes another note in her omni-tool. Taking care not to disrupt any of the nodes on my arm- or the IV, seeing as Chakwas had just untangled it- Shepard gives my hand an encouraging squeeze as she stands. "It's good that things are starting to come back to you, Oz. It'll take time, but I promise, you'll be back to 100% before you know it."

I smile back, nodding slightly, "Thanks Shepard."

Shepard pats me on the knee before rounding the bed to Chakwas' side, Ashley joining her shortly. "So, Doc, what's the verdict?"

"Well, he's not out of the woods yet, but I'd say his chances of recovery are high, Commander," Chakwas says as she fiddles with her omni-tool before looking at me and smiling in that soft, motherly way of hers. "You did well for your first session, Oz. It will take time, but I have no doubt that your memories will return in full sooner than you think."

"Thank you, ma'am," I say with a sincere dip of my head in the good doctor's direction. This only makes her smile more, and she pats me on the shoulder from her side of the bed.

"Don't thank me, Mr. Hyland," she insists humbly, "thank yourself. We only pointed you in the right direction, you were the one who worked with what we gave you to get as far as you did today. Even then, what you've recovered is more than most amnesia victims can recall within the first month or so of rehabilitation. Keep progressing like this, and you should make a full-recovery within the year, I'd say."

"Is that your professional opinion, ma'am?" I ask with a mischievous smirk, hoping to amuse Chakwas further. It seems to work, as she chuckles slightly at that.

"You could say that," she replies warmly. "Your progress today is a good sign for sure, and being in relatively good physical condition like you are helps bolster the prognosis." She looks at her omni-tool read-out for a moment, her demeanor slightly returning to one of professionalism.

_'I hear a "but" coming on here, Doc.'_ My heartbeat picks up slightly, nervousness and doubt starting to seep into my thoughts.

"But...?" Shepard raises an eyebrow, sensing the same thing I am as she regards her Chief Medical Officer.

"But, he's going to have to make it somewhere besides the Normandy's med-bay, Commander," Chakwas continues matter-of-factly, fingers flying across the omni-tool's interface before turning back to me with an almost apologetic look. "I may know a few things about human psychology, Oz, but I'm no expert on the subject, much less equipped to treat this kind of retrograde amnesia. You're going to have to be treated at a dedicated medical facility, somewhere with specialists who can help speed up your recovery, and take care of you for the duration of the healing process. Obviously, the Normandy is out of the question, especially considering our current assignment."

"I understand," Shepard nods in agreement, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye before returning to Chakwas. "What's the nearest Alliance colony that has the resources needed for him to make a full recovery?"

"Well, we're nearly clear of the Hercules System," Chakwas calls up what looks like a map on her interface, but from this angle I can't really tell for certain. "If we make a slight detour in our course, we should be able to drop him off on Terra Nova in the Exodus Cluster within the week. If he hasn't fully recovered by then, they should easily be able to continue his rehabilitation from there."

Shit, I hadn't thought about this. Sure, Shepard and the others might have bought my story, but a professional psychologist and a team of medics, ones with access to state-of-the-art facilities and the power to call up Delta Pavonis records- though to be fair, I'm sure Shep' has the authority to do so herself, being a Spectre and all, but still- they're going to see right through me, and then how am I explain everything? I can't tell the truth, they'd lock me up for sure! And then, there's the whole "leaving the Normandy" thing. I don't know why the Hell I was brought here, but I do know that- in shows like _Sliders_ or comics like Marvel's _Exiles_ series- whenever you're sucked into an alternate universe, you're always there for a reason. And, given where I've ended up, it's a safe bet that my reason is to help Shepard and her crew somehow. I can't leave the Normandy, not until I figure out why I'm here.

Feeling someone staring at me, I look up to suddenly lock eyes with Chakwas, who seems a little worried for some reason. Only then do I realize that the ECG next to me has gotten more and more vocal, it's beeps getting more erratic as my heart races faster. Damn it, panicking like that set my vitals on edge. A sudden wash of guilt comes over me, since I didn't want to make any of them worry, especially after they've all be so good to me like they have. It's just... _'I don't know what to do.'_

I flinch slightly as Chakwas moves to put a hand on my shoulder, but I manage to catch myself and relax a bit to try and assuage her concern. Still, the damage has been done, and that look of worry doesn't go away. "I think we've cut into Mr. Hyland's recovery time enough as it is, ladies," she says, motioning to the door, so that Shepard and Ashley will leave. Giving the readouts a quick glance, the ladies seem to get that the conversation hasn't done much to put me at ease about my situation, and heed the doctor's suggestion. "We can continue this discussion elsewhere," Chakwas follows her Commander and the Gunnery Chief out the door before turning to me and adding, "I know this is a lot to take in all at once, Oz. We can talk more later, once we've reached Terra Nova. Until then, just relax and rest up. We'll be around if you need us."

A quick hiss of the door closing, and once again I'm alone. Only this time, I'm awake enough to know it, and aware enough of my situation to realize I'm not out of the woods just yet. I may have established an alibi, but if I don't think of something soon, I may end up blowing my chances of accomplishing... Whatever it is I was brought here to do.

_'Damn it, there has to be something I can do to convince them to let me stay here.'_ Exhausted, I lean back against the wall, a pillow between me and the cold steel hull of the Normandy as I try and think of something, anything, that would make them keep me around. _'But what?'_ And then, it hits me. _'The visions! Yeah, that's right, that stuff I saw when I touched the Memory Shard model- or at least, I thought it was a model. They're just like the visions from the Beacon on Eden Prime, the ones Shepard has in her head. And those voices, what did they say? Something about me having half "the girl's" vision "rattling about" in my grey matter... They must've mean Shepard. If that's the case, then I have half of Shepard's vision in my mind, and she has the other part of it.'_

I feel a knot form in my stomach as the implications of this knowledge come to bear at the forefront of my mind. _'Then that means, if I can't convince them to let me stay on the Normandy, Shepard won't get the full story about the Reapers, only half of it. She won't be able to decipher any of Vigil's dialogue on Ilos, even if she gets the Cipher from the Thorian. And if that happens, it'll pretty much unravel the entire plot of the ME Universe from ME1 onward! We won't be ready for the Reapers, they'll blindside us, maybe even at the first battle for the Citadel against Sovereign, and if that happens, it's all over. The cycle continues, the galaxy perishes.'_

"Holy shit..."

"And so, two and two are finally put together-"

"-To become one complete whole."

_'Jesus wept!'_ I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of two voices unexpectedly appearing on either side of me in the otherwise empty med-bay, their owners appearing just as suddenly. A red-haired man dressed in futuristic attire- though their outfits are more reminiscent of the Illusive Man's style (i.e. dressed to the nines) than an Alliance grunt's uniform- steps out of the shadows to my right; a woman, practically identical to her counterpart in every way save biological sex, seems to materialize to my right. "Who-?" I begin to say before I'm cut off by the woman, who continues her conversation with the man.

"It took him long enough," remarks the woman in what I can only assume is annoyance as she glances at me somewhat derisively, as though she were looking at an ant on the sidewalk. "I was beginning to think we would have to step in and give him a little nudge. He seems the type that needs his hand held when it comes to these things, always afraid of breaking something by accident, afraid of repercussions, afraid of pain."

"Again," the man interjects, rounding my bed to stand at his counterpart's side, "you always see the negative, sister- or at the very least, always seek it out. Remember, we're old hats at this, he is not. We do not need to excuse our existence, he does. We can see all the angles, he only sees one. Yet, as he proved, one is sometimes all one needs to see things through. He managed to convince them of his story thus far, though its construction was somewhat haphazard. Given the situation, however, you cannot deny his resourcefulness. There was duress, but in the end, a cool head prevailed, and a believable alibi was skillfully fabricated, one that should hold water for the time being."

"Perhaps," the woman acknowledges begrudgingly. "But now, a new issue has arisen, one that even he will have a hard time addressing, even with that supposed silver tongue of his. He has finally come to realize the full gravity of the situation, as well as the part he must play in it, at least at this juncture. How to go about it, will be the tricky part."

"So, you're willing to admit you see the potential he has to at least attempt to make a case for his place on this ship?" The man almost sounds shocked at this, raising an eyebrow skeptically as he folds his arms over his chest. "I'm surprised at you, sister. You aren't the type who's willing to admit their mistakes."

"No mistakes were made, brother; ergo, there is nothing to admit. However," she adds as she moves to my bedside, still regarding me with those piercing eyes of hers, "as I said before, even your optimism has its limits. Though he is possessed of a crucial portion of the knowledge the girl seeks, that in-and-of-itself is not enough to warrant his place on her ship, let alone at her side in the field. While still in its youth, his physicality is somewhat lacking for one intended to charge the stage of battle alongside the hero of this piece. Of course, this will improve with time, but at this point, it is not enough to convince the girl he is worthy of fighting beside her, even with the knowledge of their connection."

My eyes widen as the woman produces a wicked-looking syringe from one of the inner pockets of her coat, removing the needle's cap so that it glistens menacingly in the dim light. Sloshing about loosely in the glass casing is an ominous red liquid, which- oddly enough- seems to be glowing somehow. "But, given the right incentive, either party would be inclined to take steps in the right direction. He to confirm his status as a victim of the same affliction, worthy of her attentions, and she to recognize an asset to her cause and a companion who shares her predicament."

The mystery man nods in agreement with his sister at this, seemingly following her train of thought that I can't even begin to comprehend. _'Just who the hell are these two? What the Hell are they talking about? And why do they sound so... familiar.'_

"Indeed," the brother concurs. "It would be a shame for the Commander to lose such an opportunity."

The woman looks at me again but her expression is different this time. I can't describe it, but it's as if she's trying to make me understand something, make me realize something. "It would be a boon if the fool would realize his knowledge could benefit the situation and act on it."

Without further ceremony, she gently takes my IV bag in one hand, testing the syringe with a few depressions of the plunger. "Wait," I insist, finally finding my voice as it dawns on me just where I've heard their particular accented tones before, "you're the voices from my visions in the orb! What the Hell is all this? Just who are you two? Why did you bring me here? Why do I have half of Shepard's vision in my head? And what the Hell is that stuff?"

The woman looks at me, again, like she's looking at a cockroach, and immediately, I immediately clam up and shrink back a bit. I can't describe it; it's like looking into the eyes of eternity or something. There's nothing really different about her eyes, they look like normal human eyes but somehow, I can sense something behind them that screams "unnatural." I want to break her gaze, but somehow, I can't find the strength to do so. The closest comparison I could hope to make is when I had to read Lovecraft's _"The Color Out Of Space"_ last semester for my Science Fiction course; I feel an overwhelming sense of dread and fear that builds and builds with each passing moment, yet I can't tear myself away from its source. My terror only deepens as the lights of the med-bay start to flicker ominously of their own accord.

"To answer the "what"...," the woman begins, nonchalantly spearing my IV bag with the needle as she speaks. "Think of it as a means to get things moving in the right direction." She hits the plunger, and the red liquid infects the fluids of the bag, spreading like a plague until it completely overtakes the clear space and begins a steady race toward my forearm. "A catalyst, if you will." Her work done, she steps back from my side to join her brother at the foot of my bed, their faces cast in terrifying shadow and light simultaneously as the flickering speeds up.

"As for the "who", well," the man joins in, finishing his sister's thought with a good-natured smirk on his face that somehow only makes him look more menacing. "That will come to you in time, I'm sure."

"That it will," the sister interjects. "After all, the brain adapts."

"It certainly does," the brother confirms approvingly. "Until that time, however, feel free to call us "R", if you so desire." The lights snap out abruptly, causing me to jump as the room is plunged into darkness. "We'll be in touch."

The very second the man finished speaking, the lights turn back on just as brightly as before, only now the room lacks two of its former occupants. I look around wildly for them, though I don't leave my bed for fear I mess up Chakwas' carefully placed nodes on my person. There's not a single trace of either "R", as though they'd simply vanished into thin air. _'Wait a minute, that's not true. The stuff she injected into my IV should still be-ARGH!'_

Before I can finish my thought, a massive wave of pain rips through me, starting from my left arm and burning through the rest of my body in a fraction of a second. I scream wordlessly as every inch of my body feels as though it's caught fire. I had no idea- no idea that this kind of pain could ever exist! My vocal chords can't even produce the pitch high enough to articulate this kind of agony- it's simply impossible! Shuddering, I feel an acute stinging sensation center around my hands that stands out, and I force myself to look at them as I double over, trying my damndest to hold back the vomit building in my throat. Eyes already wide in profound discomfort, I feel they would grow even wider at the sight before them as my vision tunnels and my hands become its sole focus.

Cracks and fissures race over the flesh of my forearms and palms, breaking apart to expose gooey red muscle to the open air. What little skin remains resembles broken patches of earth, the cracks like breaks on a worn sidewalk. The once silent med-bay now fills with howling wind, bitingly cold as it brushes over the exposed muscles on my arms. It's so loud, almost like a tornado! The air snaps and pops as the wind speeds up faster and faster. A flash of green light draws my attentions away from my broken digits, only for me to reel back in shock at the sight that greets me. Glowing softly, what can only be described as the ghost of a beautiful woman floats lazily before me, giggling demurely at my predicament before blowing me a kiss, her breath misting a pale spring green before she vanishes.

With a mighty _**SNAP!**_, everything comes back into focus and I breathe for what feels like the first time in centuries.

_'Wha... What, the Hell was that?'_ I can't even begin to wrap my head around it, cold sweat dripping off my forehead and dotting the sheets. Trembling, I raise my hands to find them unscathed once more, wiggling them and looking them over to check for cracks, thankfully finding none.

I jump slightly at the sound of the door opening again, still on edge after my bizarre experience with the R Twins and whatever it was the woman just dosed me with. Both sporting a worried look, Shepard and Chakwas rush into the room. The doctor is the first to my bedside, placing a hand on my shoulder as she calls up her omni-tool to check the steadily calming instruments hooked up to me. Shepard joins her, but gives Chakwas enough breathing room to work with, genuine concern in her eyes.

"Oz, are you alright?" Chakwas asks doing her best to sound together as she looks me over. "Your vitals spiked dramatically for a second there, we thought something might have happened."

"I'm... I'm okay, Doc," I say hesitantly, trying to assuage her fears. However, R's words come back to me for some reason.

_"It would be a boon if the fool would realize his knowledge could benefit the situation and act on it."_

_'Maybe... Maybe she's right. If I'm really here to help Shepard in her fight against the Reapers, then I need to make her realize that she needs to keep me around.'_ I grip the sheets tightly, trying to find the right words to say. "At least, I think I'm okay." I look up at Shepard as I say this, hoping to make her understand our bizarre connection as I add, "I was trying to get some sleep, but then, I saw these weird images, so intense... They were the same ones I saw before you pulled me out of that thing on Eletania. I could only make out brief flashes, but they were enough put a few things together. There were these... Giant machines, almost like starships; huge and black, with burning red eyes. And there were screams." I look Shepard square in the face as I say this, putting on as serious a tone as I can muster. "Lots of screams."

Chakwas and Shepard share a look at that, their expressions confirming that they're both thinking the same thing: "Reapers." Yes! They got the message! Hopefully, this will be enough to convince Shepard to keep me around, at least for a little while, and hopefully long enough for me to prove that I can be a valuable member of the Normandy's ground team. Something gets their attention back to me, and whatever it is causes them to blanche in shock.

"Oz," Shepard begins warily, as though trying to find the right words to say that won't alarm me. "I know you're still recovering, but... Do you remember being, "special," before you were stuck in the orb on Eletania? Having special talents that no one else in your family had before you?"

I quirk an eyebrow at that, unsure what she's trying to insinuate. Before I can answer her, a soft green glow draws my gaze to my lap, and I can feel my jaw drop at what I see there. A strange, yet familiar, transparent energy covers my hands, swirling around it in a listing manner as it flows over my forearm. I slowly look up at Shepard, only to see that her hands are covered in the same kind of energy as well. The only difference, however, is hers is a neon blue variant of my green.

_'She's a biotic,'_ I marvel silently before my eyes drift back to my own hands, turning them over in awe at the phenomenon. _'But how am I...?!'_ And then it hits me; the injection that the sister R gave me, and the visions that accompanied it. I knew those hallucinations felt familiar for some reason, but I could put my finger on it until now. The earth-like crevices on my hands, the howling winds that snapped and popped around me, the ghost girl giggling at the foot of my bed. _'Bucking Bronco, Charge, Sonic Boom, and Possession._'

She injected me with a cocktail of ADAM. _'I... I have vigor powers, just like Booker from _BioShock Infinite_!'_

"Whoa." I look back up at Shepard and Chakwas, both standing over me with rapt attention as I see the wheels turning in their heads. _'They think I'm a biotic too, but...'_ It's then that I remember the woman's answer mere moments ago.

_"Think of it as a means to get things moving in the right direction. A catalyst if you will."_ I look at my hands again, mentally reaching out to the energy. With that simple thought, it slowly begins to dissipate, until all that remains are my non-glowing hands. I test them cautiously, flexing my fingers and making a fist. _'Everything feels the same, only now...'_ I reach out with my mind again, and the energy reappears in seconds, hovering patiently above my skin, waiting for my direction.

_'A catalyst, huh?'_ A clenched fist, and the glow winks out of existence. _'Interesting.'_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Wow, how's that for a twist, True Believers? I know, I know, it's a big no-no to give your self-insert character superpowers, but believe me when I say that I have zero intention on making Oz a god-tier Marty/Gary Stu with his Vigor/Plasmid abilities. The powers he has now were picked specifically to mimic biotic abilities, so he has the same limits as a biotic like Shepard, and will in no way be overpowered or overshadow her role in the story. If I wanted to do that, I would've given him something like _Devil's Kiss_ or _Shock Jockey_. Besides, he just got his powers, so he has nowhere near the amount of training and experience with them the biotics like Shepard or Kaidan have achieved over the years. With a little training though, he should be more than capable of standing on his own with Shepard and the others in the field soon enough. Many thanks to squigglysquid for beta-reading this chapter, and dealing with my lack of idea on where I wanted to go with this in the beginning (lol XP). Thanks for the support, True Believers; I'll try to have more for you in the weeks to come, time and tide providing. Please feel free to R&R as you see fit; constructive criticism is always welcome, trolls get crushed by their own bridges, and flames get put to a more practical use as fuel for thermal clips and incendiary rounds. Until next time, True Believers. EXCELSIOR!


	3. Chapter 2- Welcome Aboard

**AN/Obligatory Disclaimer:** Mass Effect and the characters and elements therein are the property of Bioware and EA Games, and Bioshock Infinite is the property of Irrational Games and 2K Games; any other elements or sources of pop culture referenced in this story are the property of their respective creators/owners. I make no claim to them, and am simply a humble fan using them to tell a story. Any OCs that appear in this story, however, are mine. This includes myself (i.e. my self-insert character, through whose eyes this story will be told); at least, I'm pretty sure I own myself. Probably. You can't be too careful these days (lol :-P).

Right, that's it for the standard disclaimer. On with the show!

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 2: Welcome Aboard.<strong>

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><p><em>'You know,'<em> I think to myself over the hum of the med-bay's genetic scanner as it traces itself up and down my body in a steady pattern, '_this whole scene feels oddly familiar. Only, I'm not naked, humanity isn't an endangered species- well, not yet at least- and I'm not ruining Don Bluth's career.'_ Chuckling internally at my own stupid joke, I glance to my right at Dr. Chakwas, her eyes racing across the readouts on her omni-tool as new information comes to light. Needless to say, I'm kinda in the same boat in terms of how completely blown away I am at this bizarre turn of events.

I mean, not only have I been pulled across the multiverse by two unknown entities with British accents to aid Commander Shepard in fighting the Reapers, but now on top of that, I have Vigor powers too?! Just... I can barely wrap my head around it. I've already had so much dropped in my lap with the dimension-hopping weirdness and the Prothean visions in my head that to have superpowers suddenly added on top of that is almost too much to process, but there'll be time to figure things out later. What's important right now is that I keep up this facade I've created, stick to my story and "character," so to speak, and find some way to convince Shepard that she needs to keep me around so that I can help her piece together both our visions from the Protheans into a single, complete picture.

_'So,'_ I start to reason quietly, mulling over my next move as Shepard and Chakwas continue their work, _'if I'm from 18 years in the past, like I've said, seeing as human biotics weren't as common back then, I need to react accordingly. But still, how do I do that when I know what biotics are already, and that what I've got is nowhere near that kind of power.'_

"Why didn't the scans pick up anything when we first brought him onboard?" Shepard asks, interrupting my train of thought as she looks over Chakwas' shoulder at the scanner's results. "The Normandy's supposed to have state-of-the-art equipment; you'd think we would've caught trace amounts of eezo in his system after your preliminary examination, doc'. I mean, we didn't find any signs of gene manipulation then, so why are we just now picking up eezo readings?"

"Hmm, I can't say for certain, Commander," Chakwas admits, putting a hand to her chin as she muses on recent and strange turn of events. "However, I do have a theory. We know precious little about Prothean technology, and given where you found him, it can't be too much of a stretch to assume that Oz' new biotic abilities are the result of prolonged exposure to whatever was in that ooze you found him in on Eletania. Another possibility, however, is that he possessed biotic potential prior to his exposure, and the ooze prevented our equipment from getting a reading on it at the time. The initial scans probably didn't pick up on the element zero in his system because, when you brought him aboard, he was still covered in trace amounts of the orb's gelatinous make-up. Assuming that it was rich in element zero, it doubtless masked any preexisting eezo nodules."

The doctor turns to me as the scanner finishes its work, pulling up a chair while punching something into her omni-tool, "Now, Oz, I know that you're still recovering- and that you still haven't regained memory in full yet- but I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on this situation."

"How so, Doc'?" I ask, unsure what she's wanting me to elaborate on, but having enough of an idea to make a guess. "I mean," I add with a weak, nervous chuckle, "I'm pretty sure even with the amnesia that I'd remember being able to do that weird glowing trick before. Kinda leaves an impression."

Chakwas smiles at that, possibly taking my making jokes as a sort of coping mechanism to deal with my new predicament. She's not wrong, I'm freaking out a little on the inside, really, but wisecracks help keep me sane for some reason. _'Now I see why Spider-Man does it.'_

"That it does," the good doctor agrees, "but I was thinking something less extravagant, something subtle that would still aid itself in making sense of this sudden display of biotic ability."

"Biotics?" I parrot with intrigue, raising my hands slightly and summoning the _Possession_ vigor's signature green energy from before, surprised at how easy it gets with each attempt. I turn my hands over in mystified awe, marveling at the mist-like, ethereal glow as it traces over my fingers lazily. Half of it is an act, while the other half is genuine wonder; all my life, I've dreamt of what it would be like to have superpowers, and now I know. "Is that what this is called?"

"Yeah," Shepard chimes in, settling down next to Chakwas and calls up her own biotic field around her hand. "Grammatically, it comes from the Greek word "_bios_" and in later centuries "_biōtikos_," both meaning "life." Essentially, biotics are people who have been exposed to element zero in its fine, crystallized form while _in utero_. This leads to a mutation where they develop eezo nodules in their nervous system; and since eezo allows for the manipulation of mass effect fields, biotics gain the ability to manipulate them as well. Like so."

With that, Shepard extends her hand towards Chakwas' workstation on the opposite side of the room. I see her brow set in concentration as a faint bluish glow emanates from the desk, before a picture frame levitates slowly into the air, haloed by the blue energy. Turning her hand in a "come hither" motion, the side of Shepard's mouth quirks up in a satisfied smirk as the picture obeys and gently flies across the room to settle into her waiting grasp. Her demonstration concluded, the glow disappears, and Shepard hands the picture to Chakwas, who gives her a sideways look that reads "show-off."

"Whoa," I breathe in amazement, finally finding my voice once more.

"Yeah," Shepard says with a proud grin, "pretty cool, huh?"

"No doubt," I concur with an impressed grin before continuing my line of inquiry. "But, I don't remember ever being able to do something awesome like that. What little I can remember about my life before Eletania is... Well, normal. Just your typical middle-class family experience."

"Still," Chakwas asserts gently, trying to bring conversation back on track to figuring out the origins of my abilities, "with your father having worked as a transport pilot, it is possible that your mother was exposed to element zero while she was pregnant with you. The fact that you never displayed any conscious telekinetic ability at an early age like the Commander doesn't rule out that possibility. Did you maybe overhear your parents talk about you being offered admission to any special programs when you were a child? Did objects seem to move of their own accord about the time you hit puberty?"

When the answer is a "no" to either one, she puts her hand to her chin in a "Thinker" sort of pose, considering another sign of biotic ability I might've manifested. Then, a light seems to come on in her head. "Do you remember having frequent headaches from time to time when you were younger, maybe in times of duress or uncomfortable situations?"

_'That could work,'_ I muse inwardly. Again, it isn't a lie, really. My allergies often caused headaches back home when the weather changed dramatically, so it _is_ something I've experienced before, just not from biotics. I lean back against the wall, looking as though trying to call up a memory. "I... Yeah, I think so. I remember when I was a kid, I used to get migraines from time to time. My parents didn't think much over it, said that they were probably sinus-related or something like that, I can't really remember why. But I do remember one headache so bad that I couldn't sleep. I just, laid there, my head pounding like crazy, clutching my temples, begging my brain to stop hurting."

Chakwas nods at that, I assume satisfied with my answer. "Yes, that makes sense. Many biotics experience intermittent headaches either in the early stages of their abilities' manifestation or when their eezo nodules aren't fully developed." She looks at Shepard as she continues, "Coming from a middle-class background, it makes sense why he never had implants or amps to improve his biotic potential; the procedure is not only risky, but expensive. And, given the low amount of eezo in his system at the time, it wasn't warranted. It's likely that he may have never developed biotic abilities had he not been exposed to that ooze on Eletania."

"So, you're saying that the ooze somehow bolstered his body's eezo nodules?" Shepard asks, elaborating on Chakwas' theory.

"Again, there is still so much we don't know about Prothean technology, Commander," the doctor reminds Shepard. "Your experience with the Beacon on Eden Prime was proof of that. Given the amount of element zero in that ooze that we scraped off of him when you brought him aboard, I assume that his exposure to it over the course of 18 years was enough to strengthen the eezo nodules in his body and dramatically increase his biotic potential to what we're seeing now."

_'Thank you for that opening, doctor,'_ I snark to myself, finally seeing an opportunity to bring the Reapers into the conversation. "Wait," I interject, turning to Shepard with the best confused expression I can muster, as if the questions are piling on top of each other now, "_'your experience?'_ You mean, you got your... Biotics, from something like what you pulled me out of two days ago?"

Shepard chuckles at that, massaging the back of her neck anxiously. "Well, not exactly, Oz," she explains. "I was actually born with my biotics, like you were, only my body's eezo nodules were much more developed by the time I hit puberty." She pauses momentarily, probably searching for right way to word what she wants to say next. "But, that's a story for another time. Right now, however, I'm more interested in hearing about these dreams you've been having." Shepard looks me in the eye as she says this, her expression a mixed bag of seriousness and curiosity. "Like Chakwas said, I know you're still recovering, but these dreams, can you remember anything specific about them? Maybe something from the most recent one?"

My brow furrows at this, trying think of something specific that she might be looking for here. "What do you mean?"

"Well, any specific details that stick out to you," she clarifies, "maybe an image that's more vivid than the others, or a sound that comes in clearer. Something like those starships and the screams that you mentioned before."

_'Okay, so she wants more details, huh?'_ I wonder, growing a little concerned. If what the Twins said is true, and I really do have half of her visions in my head, then it's possible that she still has some of the ones she experienced in the game. The only problem is, which ones does she have and how do I figure that out? It's probably going to have to be trial and error at this point, given how jumbled up and blurry the Beacon's visions were in the game. Just like my visions, there were brief flashes that lingered a few seconds longer than the others, but the rest was a scrambled mess. I can remember some of them, so I should probably go with the ones that left more of an impression.

My course set, I shift my expression to remembering again. "Yeah, I think there are. I mean, most of it is just one big blur, but if you're looking for something like before, then I do remember a couple of them standing out." The memory of a certain cinematic vision causes me to cringe in disgust. "There's this one image, I'm not sure what it means, but it looks like..." I mull the idea over in my head, trying to come up with the right way to describe it, "have you ever watched Ridley Scott's _Alien_, Shepard?"

Shepard looks taken aback somewhat at this reference, like she hadn't expected me to have ever seen or understood it before. Which is funny, because I had assumed the reverse would happen in this situation, what with this being several hundred years after the sci-fi classic's release. "Yeah," she finally confirms with a nod, still flabbergasted that I know what that movie is, "my dad and I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. When he was off duty, that is." She smiles softly at this and her expression becomes one of nostalgia, the memory obviously a very fond one. "It was one of our favorites, especially given how cheesy it was in light of what we know now about space-travel and extraterrestrial life. It's kinda funny, looking back on what we thought the future would be like."

I feel the sides of my mouth pull up into a grin at this, glad to see Shepard smile, even if for a moment. "It's a great piece of cinema, if a tad dated." I quickly turn focus back to the topic at hand, knowing full well that I could derail the conversation all too easily, now that it's turned to pop culture. "But yeah, remember how the xenomorph's mouth trembles whenever it bares its fangs for dramatic effect, really slow with bits of saliva stringing between the lips?" Shepard nods. "Well, think that, only it's more flesh than carapace- wet and gelatinous, like exposed tissue- and it looks like whatever this "thing" is, has had cybernetics of some kind grafted into it haphazardly. And from the sounds it's making," I feel myself instinctively shudder, the hairs on the back of my neck bristling, "it wasn't consensual. But, even those sounds are drowned out by what sounds like surgical drills, and a snapping-hissing sort of noise."

Shepard nods understandingly, and I see a subtle hint of recognition in her expression. _'Good, I picked the right one.'_ It was a simple process of elimination, really; that portion of the vision cinematic was focused on a bit longer than the others, so it was only right to assume that it was something we would share, in spite of the Prothean visions being split between us. Still, the fact that she's being guarded like this is a little frustrating, even if I can understand her reasoning. I'm a civilian, so for the time being- at least until I've proven I can be a part of the team- she's going to treat me like one. However, I need to know where I stand here if I'm going to make any headway with whatever my objective is as part of the Twins' plan.

"So," I begin warily- testing the waters, so to speak, "you've had them too?"

Shepard nods. "About a week ago now, while we were on a mission to retrieve a Prothean Beacon that had been uncovered at our colony on Eden Prime. There were some...," she hesitates before continuing, "complications, and it was destroyed, but not before it implanted something in my head. I still can't make heads or tails of it, but from the sound of things, it's similar to what you've been seeing since being released from stasis on Eletania."

"Is this sort of thing normal?" I ask, staying in character. "I mean, do other people who've interacted with Prothean tech like the orb or this Beacon thing experience visions like we have?"

"In the past, no," Chakwas answers. "Negative reactions like yours and the Commander's are highly uncommon. And, considering how much of the galaxy's technologies are either build upon the remnants of Prothean technology or are based off of it, we should all consider ourselves lucky for that fact."

"It's also the reason why we're out here in the first place, instead of with the Fleet or elsewhere in the galaxy," the Commander explains. "We've been trying to get in contact with a leading expert on Prothean technology, to see if she knows how to make sense of these visions."

_'So we haven't found Liara yet, huh?'_ That's good, it helps me figure out where we are in the timeline of ME1, and seeing as Shepard had Garrus with her when she picked me up, I can assume Tali's here too, and they probably haven't gone to Noveria or Feros just yet.

"Our intel puts her somewhere in the Artemis Tau Cluster," Shepard continues, "exploring an archeological dig-site on one of the as-of-yet uncharted worlds." She pauses for a moment, something obviously on her mind before turning to Chakwas. "I know we were planning on making a detour to drop him off on Terra Nova, Doctor, but now that we know we're experiencing similar visions-"

"-You think it would be better if Mr. Hyland remained on the _Normandy_ for the time being," Chakwas finishes with a knowing smile. "At least, long enough to let Dr. T'Soni have a look at the two of you and give her professional opinion on your situation." Shepard replies with a nod, and Chakwas appears to concur with her CO's reasoning. "I agree, Commander." She turns to me and puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure that Mr. Hyland would appreciate some answers to the multitude of questions he must have at the moment, and Dr. T'Soni just might be able to give them to him. She stands a far better chance at giving him peace of mind in all of this, at least moreso than my colleagues on Terra Nova."

I mentally pump the air in excitement, with only the slightest of smiles crossing my lips. _'Yes! I convinced Shepard to let me stay on the Normandy! +5 points for Charm!'_ Realizing I need to stay in character, I regain my composure from that slight slip, hoping no one really noticed it. "Wait, but what about what you said earlier, Doc'? About my needing a dedicated medical facility to treat my case and all that? And what about my biotics?" I say the word with some error, as though the concept is still somewhat foreign to me; which, in a sense, it kind of is, seeing as they're "my biotics" and all. "You said that people with these abilities have to have surgery or implants or something to be able to control them properly. Wouldn't it be a bad idea for you to have someone without them running around your ship?"

Shepard chuckles lightly at my supposed worrying, flashing a smile as she gets to her feet. "Were you on any other ship, Oz, it might be a problem, but you'll find the _Normandy_ isn't so weak that she can't handle a few scrapes without falling apart. Much less the potential flare-ups of an inexperienced biotic." She walks over to the wall and raps it a couple of times with her knuckles, the metal resounding dully as a testament of its strength. "This baby is a miracle of modern spaceflight technologies, the brainchild of both human and turian cooperative engineering. There isn't a frigate like her in either the Alliance or Hierarchy fleets, she's one of a kind."

"Not only that," Chakwas adds, putting a placating hand on top of mine, "but not all biotics receive implants or amps for their abilities right off, at least not all human biotics that is. Asari are all born with their abilities, so they are second nature to them and they rarely even need the assistance of cybernetics. The same can be said for a small number of human biotics, though those that do not receive surgical aid mostly do so because they are unable to afford the financial cost. Even then, they can still gain enough control over their abilities to become productive members of society, usually through special programs sponsored by the Alliance Navy. With the right training, you should be able to rein them in to where you don't have to worry about accidentally creating a singularity when reaching for a plate in the mess hall." She laughs softly at that, the mental image definitely worthy of such a reaction.

_'I can just see it now, trying to point to something in the lunch line and inadvertently sending someone into the ceiling with Bucking Bronco.'_ I find myself chuckling along with the doctor at that one.

"As for your recovery," the doctor concludes, "so long as we continue these sessions at a gradual rate, the lack of "proper" facilities shouldn't hinder your progress too greatly."

"And as for the training, you're in luck there," Shepard continues, crossing her arms with as she grins down at me. "Not only do you have the good fortune to be on one of the most advanced ships in the Alliance Fleet, but you also have at least three biotics aboard who would be happy to teach you how to get the hang of your abilities." There's an impish gleam in her eyes as she says this, almost as though she's looking forward to watching me flail about trying to get a handle on my powers.

"I, I don't know what to say, except "thank you," Shepard," I finally manage to stammer out, genuinely blown away by not only the massive amount of info I've had dropped on me, but just how welcoming Shepard and Chakwas have been to me. I mean, I figured this Shepard was fairly Paragon from our earlier conversations, but I never expected her to be this approachable and hospitable. Sure, I haven't seen her in a combat situation, nor have I seen her interact with her superiors or the rest of the crew, but so far I'm really surprised that she's been this generous and engaging.

"Hey, anything to help a fellow biotic," she jokes good-naturedly, patting me on the shoulder before withdrawing and queuing up her omni-tool. Punching a few keys into the interface, she turns to Chakwas as she makes her way to the door. "I should head up to the CIC, tell Joker we're staying on course for Artemis Tau as planned."

Chakwas bobs her head. "Understood, Commander."

Shepard turns back to me with a smile. "I'll stop by a little bit later to give you the grand tour, Oz. In the mean time," she gestures towards Chakwas, the doctor gathering a few things from her desk before turning to my bedside, "Chakwas will help you get settled with the basics. Just a few things you're going to need, seeing as you're going to be staying with us for a while."

I give her a comprehending nod, accompanied with an appreciative smile. "Sounds like a plan, Shepard. And thanks again."

With a satisfied smile, Shepard takes her leave and the door hisses closed behind her. While Chakwas continues to gather things from her desk and med-bay's supply room, I swing my legs out over the side of the bed, kicking them absentmindedly as I wait for the doctor. This is good, I managed to convince them to let me stay, at least until Liara joins up after Therum. Still, I'm not out of the woods just yet. From now until Liara's onboard, I need to work on convincing them that I should stick around for the long haul, that I can pull my own weight and help with the fight against Saren and the Reapers.

_'That,' _I think as I test my ability to call up Possession again, flicking it on and off a couple of times, _'and I need to learn how to actually use my vigors if I'm going to be fighting with them.'_ An anxious grin splits my face from cheek to cheek as I remember what lies ahead of me today. _'But, we can figure that out later. Right now I need to focus on the fact that I'm getting a tour of the SR-1 from Commander Shepard herself! This is awesome! Today cannot possibly get any better!'_

"Alright then, let's see if we can't get you kitted out before the Commander returns, Mr. Hyland," Chakwas says, interrupting my thoughts as she produces what looks like a flimsy strip of transparent plastic. Quirking an eyebrow in confused curiosity, I follow her lead and hold out my left arm for her to gently take in her free hand. With practiced ease, she loops the strip around my wrist and smoothes it down so that it fits snuggly. It's so strange, I can barely feel it at all, kind of like a second skin or something. Not only that, but there's no telltale shimmer when the light hits my arm, like it absorbed into my skin or changed colors to match my specific skin-tone like a chameleon.

Before I can ask what this is, the doctor taps the center of my wrist and a slight tingling runs over my skin. I give Chakwas a quizzical look before something returns my attentions to my arm. What happens next practically marries my jaw to the floor. A glowing orange gauntlet appears instantaneously over my forearm, accompanied by a disk sitting atop my hand and a smaller one hovering just above my palm.

"First things first," Chakwas begins as I turn my arm over a couple of times in enraptured fascination and awe, "your omni-tool."

What follows is several minutes of Chakwas explaining the basics of how a Serrice Council _Savant_ model works while I sit patiently and listen, secretly geeking out very loudly within the confines of my head.

* * *

><p>Approximately thirty-or-so minutes later and I think I've finally started getting the hang of this- opening my omni-tool and working the interface, that is- especially after the tutorial Chakwas gave me. I've been testing it out since she left to take care of something elsewhere on the ship, fiddling with the holographic keyboard with a massive grin at the fact that I'm living a dream shared by many a fan right now. <em>'I mean, I have a freaking omni-tool! How cool is that?! Sure, I still haven't figured out how to use all of the programs and apps this thing's got, but come on, this is beyond awesome in and of itself. Plus, it gives me a change to refresh my knowledge of the ME Universe, thanks to the wonders of the extranet.'<em> I decided to leave some web-encyclopedia pages in my search history, references on the various alien races that make up the galactic stage of 2183. After all, this is all new to me- at least as far as Shepard and the others are concerned- so I would likely be interested in learning more about the species with whom we share the universe.

That, and I'll admit I'm a little rusty on my lore.

As I swipe away an extranet tab, the telltale hiss of the med-bay door gliding open heralds the arrival of the Commander, an apologetic look about her as she enters and I stand to greet her.

"Sorry that took longer than it should've, Oz." She rolls her eyes at what I assume is a recent annoyance. "I got held up in the Comm. Room after I finished talking to Joker. Apparently, my "superiors"," she air-quotes the word and I immediately know who she's talking about, "wanted an update on our search for Dr. T'Soni, and I can't really say "no" to a call from them when it comes up on the secure line." She notices my omni-tool and smirks slightly. "Though, I take it you weren't too bored while I was away. You getting the hang of it so far?"

"So far, so good," I affirm, closing the holographic window and reluctantly deactivating the Savant. "It's still a little tricky though, a lot of programs and such to take in all in one sitting. But at the same time, it's supremely cool."

"I hear that," Shep' smiles back with a nod. "Serrice makes some top-notch equipment, though that's usually the case with a lot of asari-made products. Their stuff in particular tends to be real high-quality, not to mention extremely hard to come by. The screening process alone is enough to put off a lot of potential customers; thankfully, we've had the good fortune of having some influential friends in very high places." I give her a curious look, expecting her to expand on that allusion to her position as a Spectre, but she leaves it be for now. "As for figuring out the more complex stuff, you might check with the crew down in engineering; they might be able to help you out there. You might also swing by the drive core and see if Tali could give you a hand with it, she's a genius when it comes to complex tech."

_'Okay, time to play ignorant again.'_ Following the Commander's lead, we exit the med-bay and make a beeline for the stairs up to the CIC, with Shepard giving a nod to a couple of crew members sitting around one of the break tables. "Tali?" I ask inquisitively as we ascend.

"One of our new recruits," Shepard explains, " a civilian like yourself." I raise an eyebrow at this, feinting genuine intrigue as best I can. "Her full name's "Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," and she's a member of the quarian Migrant Fleet. She was on her Pilgrimage when we picked her up on the Citadel to help us with our mission. We'll probably run into her later, seeing as she likes to spend a lot of time down there, tinkering with the Tantalus drive."

"She must really be something if you're letting her work on the ship's drive core," I say in a rather impressed tone, though not really all that surprised, given what I already know about Tali. "I didn't think that the military would let just anyone work on their equipment, much less a civilian."

Shepard nods at that, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "True, we like to keep our toys to ourselves most of the time, especially works of art like the Normandy, but Tali's been a big help to our engineering crew. Her skills with technology and machinery are incredibly useful, and the fact that she's passionate about her work doesn't hurt either. Hell, the way Adams talks about her, you'd think he was willing to trade out half his staff if it meant keeping her around permanently." A bemused smirk tugs at her lips. "Joker may like to brag about how he can make the Normandy dance, but Tali? She's the one that keeps her in shape for the next waltz."

The door in front of us slides open and the whole of the CIC is laid out before us, and holy moley, is it... _'Just... Wow.'_

One would think, having played the games, that a familiar sight such as this would be something you'd get used to- or at the very least find unimpressive when compared to the more advanced SR-2- but to actually see it up close and in person? To actually be standing in front of it, on the ship itself, looking directly at the Galaxy Map floating in the center of the room, seeing the various crew-members milling about, hearing the buzz of activity and chatter as everyone goes about their work? Words fail me for just how awe-inspiring it is. I am quite literally blown away by it all, speechless in the face of something so mind-bogglingly cool. It's all I can do to keep from geeking out. I can practically hear Sam Hulick and Jack Wall's score playing in the background right now.

Shepard seems to take notice of my awe and smiles proudly. "Yeah, it's really something, isn't it?" All I can manage at the moment is a nod, which seems to be enough for that proud smile to become an amused one. "Come on," she says, clapping me on the shoulder once to snap me out of my stupor and making me jump slightly, "let's go say "hi" to Joker."

Shaking off my amazement, I quickly follow after the Commander as she leads the way to the Normandy's cockpit, glancing about at all the sights and sounds along the way. _'This is so awesome!'_ As we round the Galaxy Map, we pass by Pressly's station where he's typing away at his private terminal, though the XO breaks from his work long enough to give Shepard a quick nod. The bridge is filled with crew-members on either side, the fingers of each flying over holographic keyboards as they go about... Whatever it is they do to keep the SR-1 in tip-top shape. _'You know, that's something that always bugged me in the games,'_ I muse quietly as I observe them in passing, reminded somewhat of Section 9's Operator gynoids from _Stand Alone Complex_, 'Bioware _never really told us what all these guys did, or how it applied to maintaining The Normandy's systems. I'll have to remember to ask Shep' about it later.'_

However, that thought gets put on the backburner as we reach the cockpit. Unsurprisingly, the co-pilot's chair is empty, meaning Kaidan's probably hanging out downstairs in the Crew Quarters like in the game. Funny how we didn't run into him on the way up here though. _'Meh,'_ I shrug mentally, _'we'll run into him eventually.'_ The primary pilot's chair swivels around at our approach, revealing the shit-eating grin of the one and only Jeff "Joker" Moreau himself.

"Hey Commander," greets the pilot cheerfully. Ah, there's that Seth Green voice, just like I remember it. I need to try and get him to say something _Robot Chicken_-esque at some point, if nothing than for the sake of my own amusement. "Long time no see. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about me."

"Forget you, Joker?" Shepard feints offense, sarcasm lacing her tone as she smirks back at him. "Perish the thought. It's hard to forget someone who runs his mouth as much as you do."

"Ooh, low-blow, Shep'. Low blow." Joker grins, clutching his chest in mock pain before settling back in his chair. "So," he gestures in my direction, "Rip Van Winkle here finally decided to join the land of the living, huh?"

"Seems like it," I reply with a smirk, deciding to play snark-to-snark combat, "shame about the beard though, it gets so cold at night without it. A problem I see you don't have to worry about, since you seem to get enough sleep up here to keep yours around."

Joker laughs at this, thankfully, rubbing his chin stubble on what I assume is reflex since I mentioned it. "Yeah, well, I get by. I'd stand and say "hi," but I doubt either of you'd be up for hauling my ass down to medical so I could have my shins put back where they belong. Not the best way to make a first impression on the new guy, I'm sure." He offers a hand, which I give a firm but careful shake, remembering not to do anything that might exacerbate his Vrolik's Syndrome. "Name's Joker, Heart-throb, idol of millions, best damn helmsman in the Alliance Fleet, or if you'd prefer "Alliance Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau" -though _I'd_ prefer it if you didn't. "

"You forgot "incredibly humble," I think," I add sarcastically, earning another smirk from the pilot.

"Hey, when you got it, you got it," is the reply. Satisfied, Joker turns his attentions back to the Commander. "Need something in particular, boss? Or did you just come up here to introduce the new kid?"

"Just thought I'd give Oz the grand tour," Shep' answers, crossing her arms. "He's going to be staying with us for a while, so it seemed like a good idea to show him around, help him get to know the crew. Figured we'd start at the top and work our way down."

"Sounds like a plan," Joker says before turning back to me. "It was nice talking with you, Oz. I'll let you and the Commander get back to it."

"Same here, Joker," I reply as Shepard and I head back to the stairs. Once we're past the bridge, and out of Joker's earshot, I turn and give the Commander a quizzical look, playing the ignorance card again for the sake of appearances. "Was he being serious back there? About the whole "breaking-his-shins" thing?"

"Joker has a rather rare genetic condition known as _osteogenesis imperfecta_," she explains, "more commonly referred to as "Vrolik's Syndrome," which causes extreme brittleness in bones. Apparently, his bones didn't form properly and are basically hollow, so too much force and well..." She mimes breaking something in half, I assume to get the point across.

"Ouch," is all I can think to say to that, wincing slightly at imagined pain. "That sucks." I glance over my shoulder at the bow, stopping at the door where a crew-member salutes the Commander before we head back downstairs. "But, it doesn't really look like it's slowed him down that much. If anything, this seems like the perfect job for someone with his condition. He doesn't have to really worry about too much stress on his legs, and he gets to fly what has to be one of the coolest ships in the galaxy."

"And he wasn't kidding around back there either," Shepard asserts, practically beaming at my complement to The Normandy. "Joker may be a goof, but he's one of the best pilots in the Alliance Navy. Top of his class in flight school- even out-flying his instructors, some of them seasoned vets- earned several commendations via his own merit, even the respect of General Invectus of the turian Hierarchy when The Normandy was still in her infancy. Not an easy feat, I'll tell you that much. When you can impress a turian, you know you're good."

A couple of steps and we're back on the habitation deck, exiting just to the right of the mess area. A couple of crew members sitting around one the tables give Shep' a brief nod, which the Commander mirrors, before returning to their meal. She fills me in a little on the lay of the land, where the food is kept in the mess, how to get to the med-bay- which I already know, both from the game, and our having just come from there a couple of minutes ago- and that her private quarters are to the right of Chakwas' workspace near the back of the open room. I have to say, being here in person, everything seems a bit... bigger overall than it did when it was just a game. That probably has to do with the fact that I'm here in person this time, a fact that still freaks me out in a good way to no end! It's like living every fan's dream, and I love it!

As we near the back of the room where the sleeper pods are kept, a familiar face comes into view and looks up at us from the terminal he's currently working at to flash a pleased, yet still professional smile. _'Yeah, I'd know that shiny, Jon Travolta 'do anywhere.'_ I can't help but smirk slightly and pray no one sees it as Kaidan gets up and heads our way.

"Commander," the Lieutenant greets Shepard courteously before turning his focus on me. "So, you're the kid she pulled out of that thing on Eletania with Garrus and the Chief, huh?"

"That's what they tell me, at least," I snark back playfully. Apparently, Kaidan takes this as a good sign and smiles.

"Well, glad to see that time on ice didn't dampen your sense of humor, kid." He offers me a hand, which I take, unsurprised at the firm grip. "Lt. Kaidan Alenko, Alliance Navy, though I'm sure you figured that last part out on your own."

"Yeah, kinda hard not to when pretty much everything's got a giant, stylized "A" plastered on it with little stars and everything."

Kaidan chuckles softly at that. "True, subtly isn't really the brass' strong suit, but still, at least it lets us know what's ours here and what's the Hierarchy's." He crosses his arms and looks me over with a lax, yet scrutinizing gaze. "So, scuttlebutt has it that you gained some biotic ability from exposure to whatever the hell was in that ooze you were trapped in planetside?"

I give the Lt. a confirming head-bob before giving him a demonstration, green energy flaring to life around my right hand as I hold it up for him to see. "That's about the gist of it, sir," I say respectfully, earning a smirk Kaidan. "Though right now, all I can really do is the "glowing hands" trick, nothing as impressive as what Shepard's capable of."

Kaidan chuckles as he shakes his head, causing me to arch an eyebrow curiously. "Well, I wouldn't worry about that, Oz. Not everyone's as talented as the Commander, or as much of a showoff either." Shepard shoots the L2 an annoyed glare at that, triggering another trickle of laughter from him. "But still, it's all good. A little training, some mental exercises, and the proper dietary regiment, and we'll have you popping off Warps in no time flat."

Curiosity piqued by Kaidan's statement, I give him a confused look. "What does my diet have to do with my biotics?" It's a legitimate question, seeing as some of my knowledge of the ME Universe' lore is still a little sketchy, especially the finer details about certain bits from the Codex.

"Well," Shepard begins, taking over for Kaidan with this one, "using your biotics repeatedly requires a lot of physical effort, seeing as you're generating dark energy of your own volition each time. That puts an enormous strain on the body, meaning biotics have to stay in shape to avoid over-exerting themselves, especially if you're in the military like Kaidan and I are."

"So," Kaidan says, "on top of making sure we keep ourselves in shape, we're assigned a larger calorie ration than most other soldiers in the Alliance; 43,000 kilocalories to be exact. That, and we get special energy drinks that helps us maintain our blood sugar and electolyte levels." He chuckles again, at what I can only assume is one of the few fond or amusing memories he has from his time in BAaT. "Though, I gotta say, the "juice" nowadays is way better than the crap they gave us back in Brain Camp."

"Jeez," I breathe out, a bit overwhelmed by all the information. "And here I thought having superpowers would be a breeze."

The Lt. claps me on the shoulder encouragingly, causing me to jump slightly. "I hear that, kid. But, again, it's all good. From what the Commander's told me so far, you aren't going to be seeing any action like the rest of us on this trip, so you won't have to have that big a shift in your eating habits to maintain your abilities. That, plus a regular workout in the gym and the biotic training schedule Shepard has planned out for you with the two of us, and you should be able to start renting yourself out for parties like the Commander in no time flat."

Shepard's annoyed scowl returns at that and she re-crosses her arms. "Don't you still have to finish that inventory report, _**Lieutenant?**_" She emphasizes the last word with a venom that, while not indicative of sincere anger, still betrays irritation. "You are still on shift, you know."

Seeing he's done enough to mess with his CO, Kaidan complies and heads back to his work station. "Of course, Commander." He gives a glance in my direction, followed by a grin and a friendly mock salute. "Nice chatting with you, kid; welcome aboard. We'll talk more later."

"Sure thing, Kaidan," I say with a smile and a wave before jogging after the Commander, who's almost rounded the wall where the mess area is located. I give one last glance over my shoulder at the Lt. as I catch up to Shepard. I wasn't exactly Kaidan's biggest fan when I played the game back in my world; he just seemed kind of boring to me. But, just like with the scale of the SR-1, things look a little different now, being here in person. He has way more personality to him for some reason, though I'm pretty sure players/fans who saved him on Virmire saw him open up more as the game progressed. _'Shit,'_ I curse as that particular event comes to mind, _'Virmire.'_ I quickly banish the thought from my mind. _'Can't think about that right now. I'll deal with it when the time comes, and when I'm actually in a position to do something about it. As in, can actually wield my Vigor abilities properly and prove myself an asset to Shep's ground team.'_ We come to a stop and Shepard hits a button on the wall. _'Speaking of which.'_

"Back there, Kaidan said something about just the three of us doing biotic training." I give her as puzzled a look as I can muster.

Shepard nods in confirmation, calling up her omni-tool and punching in a couple of commands. "That's right. Starting tomorrow, you'll alternate between the two of us for sessions. I just sent the schedule to your omni-tool, so feel free to give it a look when you have a chance."

A slight buzzing sensation emanates from my wrist, and I check my inbox. Sure enough, there's a file labeled "BIOTICS 101" sitting patiently in my email, waiting to be opened. I bookmark it for later and turn back to Shepard, continuing my line of inquiry. "But, back in the med-bay, you said that there were _three_ biotics onboard the Normandy that would be willing to teach me how to get a handle on my powers?"

Shepard shifts on the balls of her feet and rubs the back of her neck nervously, an odd sight to say the least. "Heh, yeah, I did. But, after giving it some thought, I figured it would be best if you learned from Kaidan and I; fewer broken bones that way." She laughs as I pale slightly at that. "Besides, Wrex isn't what you'd call a "people person." Though to be fair, he is getting better about it. At least he isn't giving Garrus that look every time they bump into each other in the hanger now, just some of the time."

Ah yes, Urdnot Wrex. My favorite krogan badass. Though, to be honest, all krogan are badasses, but that's beside the point. That being, he's another member of the crew I've been looking forward to meeting in person on this tour, meaning our next couple of stops are going to be on the Normandy's lower decks. I find myself wondering just how big they're going to be, if the size of the mess and crew deck are anything to go off of for comparison. The hanger has to be massive in real life, say nothing of the drive core. _'Plus,'_ I think ponderously, _'given how big the Normandy is, I wouldn't be surprised if there are more levels here than there were in-game.'_

Before I can continue that line of thought, the wall next to us gives a shrill 'ding' and a portal slides up into the ceiling to reveal a small, but all too familiar chamber within. Without missing a beat, Shepard strides right in and stands beside the button at the back wall. A cold shiver passes through me as I stand before my ancient foe, before the nemesis of all Mass Effect players from the first game. Memories of minutes spent in awkward silence and foot-tapping, leg-bouncing aggravation come back like a torrential flood as Shepard waits for me to reluctantly step in. I do my best to disguise my displeasure as I enter and the Commander hits the button, the shutter descending over the doorway ominously behind me.

_'So, we meet again, old friend,'_ I think in sarcastic nostalgia as I feel the floor lurch slightly downward. _'... I __**hate**__ these damn elevators.'_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Ah, the bane of many an ME fan during the first game. How do I hate thee, ME1 elevators? Let me count the myriad ways. Regardless, it looks like things are off to a great start for Oz as he embarks on his journey into the plot of the ME Universe, guided by the invisible hand of the "R Twins." Now that he's managed to secure a spot aboard the Normandy, he needs to make sure he can keep it when the time comes to make a case for his continued service to our favorite badass and her crew. Not only that, but he also needs to get a handle on these new powers he's been abruptly saddled with, thanks to the meddling of his mystery benefactors. Plus, there are still a few more crew members to meet on this tour of the SR-1. What kind of first impression will Oz make on the rest of the ground team, and vice-versa? Stay tuned to find out! Many, many thanks to squigglysquid for beta-reading this chapter, and thanks to you as well for your support, True Believers. I'll try to have the next chapter out as soon as possible, time and tide providing. Please feel free to R&R as you see fit; constructive criticism is always welcome, trolls get crushed by their own bridges, and flames get put to a more practical use as fuel for thermal clips and incendiary rounds. Until next time, True Believers. EXCELSIOR!


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